


Descent into madness

by poeticeclipse



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-02-23 21:49:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticeclipse/pseuds/poeticeclipse
Summary: A serial killer is loose in scranton. And he has some plans for the folks of Dunder Mifflin.





	1. Chapter 1

The old abandoned building they're in is musty, cracked cement floors and peeling walls. Ryan stands over him.  
"Surprised? Are you really." He laughs darkly.   
"It's for your own good." He says, smile dropping, eyes cold.  
"C'mon, Ryan. You don't have to do this." He stutters nervously.   
"Hmm," He hums. "I think I do.  
How do you want it, Toby? Fast and easy?" He cocks his head to the side. He's crazy.  
"Please, Ryan."  
He sighs. "I'm doing you a favor. Why can't you see that?"  
"Favor!?"  
"Yes. I feel for you, Toby I really do. Your sad little life, no friends, no family, miserable job. You'll thank me when it's over."  
"You don't get to decide if someone's life is worth living, Ryan."  
He busts out laughing manically.   
"Oh, Toby." He smiles, stepping forward. "I do."   
And with that his cool, pale hands wrap almost gently around his throat squeezing tight. He can't breathe! He can't breathe and the pressure is only increasing. He looks wide eyed and pleading up to Ryan who's grown hazy in his vision.   
"I know. I understand." There's tears on his face. He leans forward pressing his lips to his forehead. "You're welcome."


	2. Chapter 2

All his life he's hurt. A deep throbbing pain that no one seems to understand an emptiness that's crushingly lonely.  
He remembers his first kill when he was fifteen.  
when he first stumbled on to the homeless man close to the vacant lot he'd wonder and watch the stars from.  
He'd been ragged and dirty and Ryan had wondered why he kept going, kept existing, why he himself kept living.  
He feels angry. angry at the man for making him wonder.  
He marches over knocking him to the ground, pausing only when their eyes meet.  
He can see it now, an anguish deep in his eyes that he understands and suddenly he's a person to him, a whole, equally suffering human, and it hurts and he doesn't want him to hurt.  
He can't save himself, but maybe he can help others.  
He's filled with a zeal that's nearly intoxicating in its severity it pushes on him hugging his lungs and he knows what he has to do. "I'm sorry." He says. "I know what it's like. need a hand?"  
The man hesitates before nodding, eyes gleaming as they take in the well dressed young man. surely he has some spare cash on him he thinks as he turns away. but when he turns back around his face is void of emotion an abandoned brick is in his hand. "What are you doing!?" He cries panicked.  
"Doing you a favor." The brick smashes down on him sending  
off a spray of blood that coats Ryan's face.   
Feeling the warmth of that blood trickle slowly down his face  
is like breathing for the first time.   
And he knows his life's works just begun.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a Saturday that marked his sixth kill.  
He's become more refined he feels. More methodical.  
He plans carefully the where, when and who.  
Steels his impulses, no more careless bludgeoning.  
He's flying high.  
His mother notices this change in him. So drastic. But she says nothing, casting fearful glances his way and smiling too brightly. She's no one's fool. She saw the light blood splatters on his collar that day he came home acting erratically euphoric.  
She had questioned him. "Cut myself shaving." He had said flatly, eyes hardening, daring her to challenge him.  
She had been afraid of him then, afraid of what he could be capable of. So, she convinced herself he just got in to a little scuffle, it's normal boys fight. Maybe he just needs the release from rough housing, she thinks firmly, putting everything from her mind. 

In an abandoned garage Ryan rocks and breathes. The blood on the floor glimmers and he reaches out a finger to swirl in it.  
The knife lays abandoned by his side. He closes his eyes remembering the first slash of the blade, how it felt slicing that pale flesh, the resistance, blood spurting in a beautiful crimson arc. He brings his hand slowly to his face, inhaling the scent. It's hypnotizing. Slowly he slides a delicate finger in his mouth, brushing across his tongue. God, he breathes, head tipped back. Floating.  
He's done a good thing.  
He smiles. still rocking.


	4. Chapter 4

He's been working at Dunder mifflin for a while now,   
and if there was ever a group of such sad pathetic people   
that needed liberating it was these.   
Honestly he'd burn the whole place down if he could.  
But not all are worthy, at least not yet.   
He freed Toby but who should be next.   
Jim annoys him greatly. He heard him ask the receptionist if she thought his silence was odd and his shifty eyes disturbing.   
But as much as he dislikes him he doesn't get to die, doesn't deserve to. He's not intelligent enough, he knows nothing of the kind of pain Ryan and others experience.   
But? He thinks, maybe he could be taught to understand.


	5. Chapter 5

He's killed twice more since Sunday. Druggies.   
They understand the pain of hopelessness.   
But it's not enough. He feels manic, high, he's worried he's burning out. He feels himself slipping, control weakening,   
but he has a code he must follow. To set free. Not kill for the sake of it. But with higher purpose. If he gives in and let's himself indulge in his base instinct he'll have to take himself out of this calling for good. But, perhaps it is time.   
But not without first leaving his legacy, his gift, to another sad soul. Though not of this world's doing, no, he must craft this himself and he knows just who'll take up this mantle.


	6. Chapter 6

Dearest Jim,  
You were right you know, when you said something was off about me. What was it again? Ah, yes. Andy mcguiness, Rachel howl, Martha Brooks, David Miller, Mandy Janes and of course Toby Flenderson to name a few and oh, what's this, Pam Beesley? Meet me at the address provided and bring your gift, you'll need it. not to worry about Ms. Beesley she likes the lake fine.


	7. Chapter 7

"Ryan!" Jim screams, running down the slope towards the lake. Ryan is pleased to see he's indeed brought the blade he left him.  
"Are you mad, Jim? Are you mad?"  
He stands in the moonlight, blood on his face. He feels beautiful.  
"Oh my God. You sick son of a b*tch!"  
He looks like he's about to throw up.  
"Where is she!?" He trembles.  
"In the lake, Jim. I told you. it's okay, she understood."  
"That's not her blood."  
"It's all their blood. Every. one. I drank their sorrows for them, I beared their cross, I did them a favor." He says, running his tongue across his lips.  
A choked sob of anguish and rage, primal in its sound, tears its self from Jim's throat and he charges him.  
They tussle for several minutes before Jim stabs him in the abdomen once, twice.  
"It's over, Ryan! You're not going to survive that much blood loss."  
"I know." He says, calmly. "I knew I could get you to kill, Jim." He smiles, "My precious mini me."  
"Shut up!"  
"Mm, you're so high and mighty." He chuckles. "But you're just like me. What did you think I was born this way? A monster? No, Jim. I was created. perhaps society made me this way. Just as I have created you. Anyone can kill when the correct variables fall into place, it's a base instinct, Jim we all share it. you really think you're so much better?"  
"You took innocent lives!"  
"Innocent to who? That's rather sanctimonious of you. I had my reasons, just as you have yours. Bottom line? You're a killer now, Jim." He stares up at the night sky, the same he's lain under and hated and envied in almost equal measure all these years. He sighs. "Thanks. Thanks for doing me a favor." He whispers, choking on the blood in his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim snaps. Yanking off his coat he balls it up putting pressure on Ryan's wounds.  
"What are you doing? Let me die."  
"No. That's what you want. I'm not giving you the satisfaction. You get to live in this world miserable as me you piece of sh*t."  
"It's too late."   
"The hell it is." He grabs him pulling and dragging him to his car. He throws him down into the passenger's seat.  
"Where we going?" Ryan mumbles, barely conscious.  
"Shut up."  
"Ha, you're trying to save me. Trying not to be a killer. S'cute." He snickers.  
"Shut up!" 

They drive all night to Jim's uncle's abandoned cottage. His uncle was a weird guy, into government conspiracy theories and all that when he went off grid. That was years ago though and he's since moved on. As far as Jim knows he's the only one who knows of it. Ryan remains unconscious for most of the ride. He's pale and sweating and Jim wonders if all he's doing is relocating a corpse. He has to carry him inside when they get there. Back to the bedroom. He tosses him on the bed tearing away the jacket and shirt to inspect the damage. He doesn't really know what he's doing. Medically or otherwise. Everything seems distorted, like a bad dream. But if this is what Ryan wanted, if this was the plan he designed for him to follow, then Jim was going to do everything contrary to it to spite him. Let him live in the pain and misery like he's caused countless others.   
He finds his uncle's first aid kit. Douses the needle with alchohol before starting the stitches. Ryan moans when the needle pierces him.  
"I hope that hurts." Jim tells his unconscious form.

It's days of delirium, sweating and shaking and nights of Jim gripping his chin forcing broth down his throat to regain strength. "You're gonna live, Ryan. Whether you like it or not." He hisses. When his strength begins to return, enough for him to hobble from the bed, Jim starts locking his door at night. He's already got the house locked down he can't actually go anywhere but even with all the knives gone he's bound to find something to off himself with should he decide to go that route. So he stripped the bedroom all but bare and locks him in at night. And he howls and sobs so loud and anguished that Jim can barely stand it.   
"Stop it! Would you just stop it!" He yells, throwing the door open and storming in. Ryan rocks on the bed. "You ruined it!" He screams. "I almost had my redemption! All those years of work! For nothing! Now I'm stuck here!" He claws at his arms viciously.  
"Stop!" Jim grabs his arms, pinning them.   
He sobs wildly for hours. Jim sits there holding his arms down. He's crazy. They both are. Ryan for believing he could find redemption in murder and Jim for being here, saving his life and holding him all while knowing the love of his life died by his hands.  
He must have had a break with reality, he thinks tiredly, rubbing a hand across his face and through his hair. 

It's been months. Ryan still has the need to spill blood but it's become a different sort these days. Jim sighs as he drags the deer's carcass off the kitchen table and out onto the porch. Washing his hands in the sink he absently watches as the water swirls red down the drain, before starting the coffee.  
It's a strange new life he reflects, watching Ryan from the window as he makes his way back to the house.   
"You didn't like the deer." He comments, emotionlessy.  
"No, I loved the deer." Jim says, reaching out and using his thumb to wipe away some of the blood from his face.  
"Just not first thing in the morning. Alright?"  
"Alright."  
"Come sit down." He says, pouring him a cup of coffee.  
He stands by his chair placing it in front of him.  
Ryan turns his face into Jim's stomach, nuzzling it there and breathing.   
Jim sighs and threads his fingers through his hair.   
Such a strange life.


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you mad, Jim?" Ryan asks, echoing the same words as lifetimes before.  
"No, I'm not mad, Ryan." Jim sighs. Sitting on the bathroom sink watching Ryan bathe in what's now pink water. "You look mad."  
"I'm not."  
"I didn't mean to."  
"I know." He says, staring at the crack in the baseboard.  
The backpacker had gotten too close. He didn't have a choice and now they had a body to dispose of.  
"I'm sorry, Jim.  
He's not, he knows he's not, he's not capable of seeing anything wrong with his actions.  
"I know you are." Jim says anyway.  
"I won't let anyone ruin our life, Jim! Not anyone."  
"Neither will I." Jim says, eyes fierce.  
"C'mon and hurry up. we have a body to move."  
Ryan grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated. Be sure to check out my other works.


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